


Glory, Glory Hallelujah!

by Iwovepizza



Series: Creature AUs [6]
Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blushing Jesper, Creature Wylan, Cuddling, Flirting, Flirty Wylan, Genderbent Wylan (for like 5 seconds), Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Sex Addiction, Like I'll write another chapter with smut if you guys want bc it's legit nothing, Like not enough for it to be M, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Prostitute Wylan, There's like nothing guys, Wylan is the smooth one this time, minor smut, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 09:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10461690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwovepizza/pseuds/Iwovepizza
Summary: Out of the corner of his vision, Jesper could see the sultry looks that Wylan was casting his way...“Are you Grisha?” Jesper rasped before he could consider his words. He wasn't sure if Wylan was a fan of Grisha, but his head felt like it was filled with cotton, and his sight grew hazy as his blood burned in his veins, but it was a good burn.“Excuse me?”“Are you Grisha?”“Far from it, my handsome fellow,” Wylan responded silkily, running his hand over Jesper’s bicep as they strolled onto the cobbled street, kneading the muscle under his fingers. “I’m something you’ve never seen before.”





	

_“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,_

_He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored._

_He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword_

_His truth is marching on…”_

_-“The Battle Hymn of the Republic”_

\----Ӝ----

 

            Out of all of the people in the Dregs, why did it have to be him?

            Seriously, Jesper was just an average guy and, like everyone else, was slumming it up in the Barrel and praying to gods of his own making that he would survive another day.

            Sure, he was Grisha and he was good with guns, but a lot of people had more talents than he did, including his own comrades. _Especially_ his own comrades.

            “Jesper, I need you to keep watch tonight outside of the Crow Club,” Kaz ordered as he lounged back on the rickety chair by his desk (which everyone called a throne behind Kaz’s back).

            He was fiddling with a coin idly, and he kept making it disappear and reappear from seemingly nothing, which Jesper found intimidating beyond belief. Despite his bulky black gloves, Kaz’s fingers were still nimble.

            “Why?” Jesper prompted, trying to seem nonchalant, but if someone could be relaxed around Kaz Brekker, they were either insane or had a whole legion of guards to back them up, and even then they should still be on edge.

            After months of following Kaz’ orders, Jesper was finally able to pinpoint the exact thing that made the leader of the Dregs so unnerving.

            It wasn't the crow’s head cane, the dark clothing, or even the scars on his upper lip and above his eyebrow. It was his eyes. They were the color of bitter coffee, sharp and intelligent like a fox’s, but behind all of that was the haunted look of someone who aged too much in too little time.

            “Someone’s been stealing things from the lounge room,” Kaz replied, tucking the coin into his pocket and folding his hands in his lap.

            “Why would anyone steal things from the lounge room?” Jesper scoffed, frowning. "It's practically bare."

            They’d cleared out one of the gambling rooms when it had become too unpopular, and had reinstated a sort of lounge area for people to relax. At least, that’s what they told people: in reality they’d cleared it so people would stop making out on the poker tables and could retreat to somewhere less public to take care of themselves.

            “Three potted plants have gone missing as of yesterday,” Kaz snorted, his eyes glittering. “Do you know how bothersome it is to keep buying plants and just to have them disappear?”

            “Why in the hell would anyone want to steal the potted plants? They’re basically weeds and you bought them for half a kruge each.”

            “Beats me, but one and a half kruge in potted plants stolen is still money being lost, and I want this person found and shot on sight.”

            “That’s a little much, don’t you think?”

            “They’re stealing. What does it matter if they’re stealing one and a half kruge or the entire treasury? It’s still theft.”

            So that’s how Jesper found himself patrolling the outside of the Crow Club, squinting at the crowd filtering in and out of the club’s open double doors.

            Some left richer, others poorer, and to pass the time Jesper tried to piece together who won or lost what, judging from the looks on their faces.

            The sharpshooter usually avoided the Crow Club at all costs, preferring the safety of the Slat where the temptation of hitting the tables was less powerful.

            There was an itch under his skin, the need to feel cards in his hands and dice rolling in his palms, and he drummed his fingers on his holsters, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to join the flow of people rushing inside.

             The only thing things that were keeping him away were sheer willpower and the fear of angering Kaz Brekker, the latter a whole nightmare in itself. If he wasn't careful, he could be sentenced to chamber pot duty for a month or a good beating by the rest of the Dregs, though he knew he was too invaluable for Kaz to do anything more to him than that.

            As the hours- which may have been minutes, Jesper couldn’t really tell one from the other- dragged on, Jesper began to grow weary.

            The only people who left the Crow Club were either empty-handed or boasting their winnings, and none of them were making off with any potted plants. Jesper wasn’t known for his patience, and he wondered if this job was punishment for that whoopee cushion he’d put under Kaz’s chair for April Fools’ Day.

            His legs grew tired from standing, and he leaned against the wall to try and relieve some of the strain, peering into the darkness of the alley in between the Crow Club and the apartment building next to it.

           There was something odd about it today, though; it was still like any ordinary alley- dark, shady, and flanked on either side by worn and almost deteriorating bricks- but there was something that just didn’t feel right, and Jesper couldn’t put his finger on it.

            When he finally did, it was like a slap in the face. The Barrel was a place of odors most foul, what with the rank stench of the canals and the dead things in them, and an alley should smell even worse, especially one outside of a club such as this one.

            While normal alleys would reek of urine and vomit and booze and perhaps a little sex, this one’s smell was actually tolerable. Almost nice, really.

            A fragrant, fruity scent wafted from the depths, and Jesper’s need to find the potted plant thief was completely eclipsed by his curiosity. Seriously, Kaz had chosen the wrong person for this job, because anything sounded better than sitting around and waiting for someone to walk by with a plant, of all things.

            Jesper took another whiff and found that the smell was almost like a woman’s perfume, delicate and enticing, but this one seemed more pure and gentle on the nose, rather than the in-your-face monstrosities that came with women rubbing lilac all over themselves.

            He almost wasn't surprised when a beautiful woman about Jesper’s age emerged from the shadows, silks billowing around her like pastel colored clouds.

            Though her ginger hair was short and her chest was rather flat, there was a definite softness to her jawline and a curviness to her hips that Jesper would consider enticing on feminine standards.

            “Who are you?” he asked and stood up a little straighter, realizing as the woman advanced that her feet were bare.

             Summer was dying in Ketterdam, enough that it was slightly chilly at night, and Jesper felt worried on the woman’s behalf; a lack of shoes or socks was the perfect gateway to frostbite.

            “I’m anything you want me to be,” the woman replied smoothly, her bright blue eyes glittering.

            Ah, a lone prostitute, one who hadn’t been good enough to be employed by any of the brothels.

            Any attraction he would've felt was scattered to the wind, and Jesper crinkled his nose as he wondered where and with whom this young woman had been. He was fine with strippers- they just took their clothes off and called it a night- but prostitutes were carriers of all sorts of things that Jesper didn’t want to have to suffer through.

            For a moment he could only stare, slack-jawed, but he eventually caught a hold of himself and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

            “Listen, ma’am, I’m going to have to decline,” Jesper apologized, studying the dirty laces of his boots, “I have a job to do and, um, technically you’re loitering on the prop-”

             He thought his heart would stop when he looked up and realized the woman was gone, replaced with a boy about Jesper's age who bore a striking resemblance- perhaps her twin. He had the same ginger hair that curled around his ears and the same vibrant blue eyes, but his jawline was more square, his shoulders broader and his body boasting less curves, though that made him no less enticing while wearing the woman's silks.

            “W-what?” was all Jesper could manage, and the boy gave him a sultry smile. There was a predatory glint in his eyes. “Where’s the woman?”

            “What woman?” the boy asked innocently, but his lips had quirked up into a mischievous smirk. Jesper blinked hard as he tried to process what he was seeing, running a hand down his face and racing to catch up with the thoughts zipping through my head.

            “I-I-I’m sorry,” Jesper stuttered as the boy sized him up almost clinically, his eyes dissecting Jesper like he was some sort of scientific specimen. Jesper couldn’t help but compare it to Kaz’s gaze. “But for a moment I could’ve sworn that you-”

            The boy crept forward until he was within arm’s reach, his footwork as if he never touched the ground. It was like Inej, only magnified by several times to the point where it strayed into phantom territory.

            “You asked who I was, and I replied with anything you want me to be." His lips twisted. “You don’t mind being with either sex, but you prefer the company of men, do you not?”

            “How do you know that?” Jesper demanded, his hands flying to his holsters, and the boy’s eyes tracked. the movement idly. He didn't seem at all fazed by the risk of getting shot full of lead. “Have you been watching me?”

            “Listen, I know a lot of things,” the boy replied silkily, “My name is Wylan, by the way.”

            When Jesper only stared, the boy stage-whispered, “This is the part where you tell me _your_ name.”

            “Uh…Jesper."

            “It’s very nice to meet you, Uh…Jesper,” Wylan snickered, his tone playful. But rather than the fake mischievousness that prostitutes normally tried to portray, the kind that normally didn’t reach their tired eyes, this boy seemed like an actual trickster.

            “Sorry we got off on the wrong foot…I just, I really thought you were a woman, no offense.”

            “None taken,” Wylan replied, his words honeyed. “Now, how about we take this back to your place, hmm?”

            “I’m sorry, I can’t,” Jesper deadpanned, but he sounded unsure. “I have work to do, or else I’ll get on my boss’ bad side.”

            “How about a kiss, then? You’re a very fine man if I do say so myself, and I don’t want to miss out,” Wylan murmured, getting in close and running his hands over Jesper’s chest.

             The touch certainly wasn’t unwanted, and Jesper was tempted to sling Wylan over his shoulder and haul him back to the Slat so he could have his way with him.

            “Just a kiss?” Good Ghezen, he sounded like a nervous altar boy; there was just something about this sweet-smelling prostitute that hurled all of his normal bravado out of the window.

            “Yes, a kiss,” Wylan confirmed, gently pushing Jesper back until he hit the bricks.

            “I don’t have to pay you or anything, do I?” the sharpshooter fretted, and the sexy smirk on Wylan’s face melted into an affronted scowl.

            “Unlike others, I actually take pride in my job. It's almost like a hobby, you know? Less like a thing to suffer through and more like a pastime. Now are you going to kiss me or not?”

             Jesper couldn’t find it in himself to deny, so he didn't waste any time closing small space between them. 

             Wylan's lips were just as soft as he imagined, and Jesper found his eyes fluttering closed as he pulled Wylan close, the boy’s silks feeling incredible under his fingers.

            “You taste sweet,” Jesper mumbled as his thoughts completely flatlined. "Like, unnaturally sweet."

             He vaguely recalled what he was supposed to be doing, but it was unimportant compared to the crackling electricity that was Wylan's kiss. He ran his hands faall over Wylan’s body, rejoicing in the way the blue-eyed boy let out a hum of satisfaction and pressed impossibly closer.

            “Maybe I’m just a sweet person,” Wylan giggled, and Jesper flinched as something caught on his lip, perhaps one of Wylan’s teeth, but the boy’s teeth couldn’t possibly be that sharp.

             Jesper’s veins hummed with something otherworldly, something that he'd never experienced before in his life. It was the kind of high he usually got from hitting th tables.

            “By the way,” Wylan whispered against Jesper’s lips as he cupped the sharpshooter’s face with his hands, “I’m your potted plant thief. I wanted to draw out that gorgeous hunk with the cane, but you’ll have to do.”

            Jesper wondered how Wylan could’ve possibly known such a thing, how he could’ve figured out that Jesper was here because of the thefts, and dully he realized that this encounter was far from shooting Wylan on sight like Kaz had instructed.

            “Now, about going back to your house…” Wylan drawled and bit his lower lip, his eyes containing an irresistible “come hither” gleam that lured Jesper in like a moth to a blazing fire. 

            “I’m so in,” Jesper agreed without thinking, his heart fluttering in his chest as Wylan grew more and more beautiful by the second.

            He felt flushed and hot, sweat beading across his forehead like he had a fever, and his hands were shaking like an addict itching to get his next fix. It was really weird, but Jesper didn’t have the brain capacity to be bothered by it as the two of them finally broke apart and set off towards the Slat.

            It occured to Jesper that he was leading an outsider right into the heart of the Dregs, and he wondered whether he should just book a hotel room instead, but his feet carried him without permission from his brain.

            Wylan was a warm, almost hot presence by Jesper’s side, a tower of flame against his side as he locked their arms and leaned against him.

            The dozens of sultry looks and mesmerizing bat of Wylan's eyelashes had Jesper growing hard in his jeansas he steered them through the throngs of people, which were starting to thin out as they ventured into the heart of the Barrel, where not even the dumbest of pigeons would dare to venture.  

             Jesper's eyes got caught in a particularly heated stare, and he quickly glanced down at their feet, shocked to find that Wylan’s were perfectly clean despite their trek through the crowds and over the streets.

            “Are you Grisha?” Jesper rasped before he could consider his words.

            He wasn't sure if Wylan was a fan of Grisha, but his head felt like it was filled with cotton, and his sight grew hazy as his blood burned in his veins, but it was a good burn.

            “Excuse me?”

            “Are you Grisha?”

            “Far from it, my handsome fellow,” Wylan responded silkily, running his hand over Jesper’s bicep as they strolled onto the cobbled street, kneading the muscle under his fingers. “I’m something you’ve never seen before.”

            “Enlighten me.”

            “Ever heard of an incubus?”

            “No.”

            “Good, because I want you to forget what I just said.”

            So Jesper did, the memory wiping itself from the sharpshooter’s mind as if it had never happened, and Wylan laughed at his confused and bleary stare.

            “I’m sorry, what were we saying?” he wondered.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Wylan crooned, and for a moment Jesper thought the boy’s eyes were glowing, though he singled it out as a trick of the light.

             He looked up to see the Slat looming up to the left, partially blocked by the buildings flanking it, and smiled softly as he thought of all the great memories he had there, whether they be of his friends or of the obstacles he’d overcome.

            The windows blazed gold and shadowy silhouettes shifted on the other side of the glass, completely unaware of the stranger that was going to be brought into their midst.

            “Not that way,” Jesper said as Wylan made a move to ascend the front steps, and the ginger-haired boy’s eyebrows raised as Jesper slipped into yet another alley. After a moment’s hesitation, he followed close behind. “I sort of have to do this under the radar.”

            “Exciting,” Wylan murmured as they approached a fire escape ladder. “I assume this is close to your room?”

            “Yeah. I left the window open,” Jesper admitted, grinning cheekily. “Just in case.”

            “You were expecting to bring someone home?” Wylan accused, feigning insult, and the two of them chuckled as Jesper boosted Wylan up and waited for the blue-eyed boy to start climbing before he followed. “How scandalous.”

             Jesper’s face heated up when he caught glimpses of Wylan’s upper thighs beneath the silks. Apparently, the ginger-haired boy had gone commando, and it made Jesper’s skin feel even hotter than it was already.

            “No, I expected to sneak home before the job was done without my boss knowing,” Jesper corrected as they passed the first story undetected. He was glad that Inej was out spying on some politicians tonight, because otherwise she would’ve caught them in an instant.

            “Very resourceful of you,” Wylan chuckled, and Jesper couldn’t help but join in.

            “Stop here. My window is the one to the right,” he said, and Wylan expertly maneuvered himself onto the ledge without any help from Jesper, making him wonder whether if the curly-haired boy had been tutored by Inej in some way, shape, or form.

             He was just so graceful and steady on his feet, and he was able to push the window open and slip into Jesper’s room before they could say anything else.

            “Nice digs,” Wylan commented as Jesper crawled in behind him, dropping to the floor and regarding Jesper’s simple and tidy room.

             There was one bed in the corner with a chest at the foot of it, and a dresser was pushed off to the side. The room was dark, but light seeped under the crack in the door, the faint sound of people moving downstairs filtering through the floorboards.

            “Now, where were we?”

            That night had to have been one of the best that Jesper had ever had.

            “Don’t I have to, like…?” Jesper gasped as Wylan bent down and mouthed at his collarbone, rocking into his lap and making it difficult to think straight, “…pay you or something?”

            “Honey, I’m not a prostitute,” Wylan whispered against Jesper’s burning hot skin, and Jesper’s fingers were probably digging bruises into the Wylan’s hips. “Just someone who really, really likes sex.”

            “That’s fine by me,” Jesper breathed and brought their lips together for another heated kiss.

            They went round after round after round, and when Jesper thought that he couldn’t possibly have any more left in him, his veins burned and by some miracle he was hard again. When Jesper finally called it quits, exhausted, and invited Wylan to stay the night, the two of them somehow managed to have meaningful conversation.

            “So, when did you find out you had a sex addiction?” Jesper drawled as he lay between Wylan’s pale legs, his clothes and Wylan’s odd silks scattered across the floor.

             The only thing covering their naked asses was a sheet that they’d tossed over their bodies like an afterthought. He braced his elbows on either side of Wylan's abdomen and rested his head on his hands, staring down at the beautiful boy beneath him.

            “You could say that it runs in the family,” Wylan replied cryptically, reaching up to thumb at Jesper’s kiss-swollen lower lip, and the sharpshooter allowed his eyes to flutter closed.

            “I’m still sorry about thinking you were a girl earlier. I must’ve been hallucinating.”

            “Maybe you weren’t.”

            Jesper’s eyes flew open, and a divot appeared in his brow. “What?”

            “Maybe you weren’t hallucinating,” Wylan replied seriously, his eyes glinting in what little light filtered into the room. “Maybe I actually was a girl.”

            “What are you saying? That I was right?” Jesper scoffed, and Wylan’s eyes turned tender, which was incredibly different from the heatedness they usually boasted.

            “Possibly,” he murmured.

            “But that’s impossible. You _looked_ different. More feminine,” Jesper argued, supporting his head on one hand and using the other to trace swirling designs onto Wylan’s tummy, making the boy squirm and giggle.

            “Perhaps because my kind can do that kind of thing,” he snorted, seizing Jesper’s hand and placing a soft kiss onto the sharpshooter’s knuckles.

            Jesper’s frown deepened, “What do you mean by your ‘kind’?”

            “I mean I’m not human.”

            “So you’re Grisha?” Jesper asked eagerly.

            “No, not Grisha either.”

            “Then what are you?” Jesper was feeling a severe sense of déjà vu, right now, and he felt oddly as if he'd asked this question before, though he couldn’t remember the answer.

            “I’m an incubus.”

            “Like the things that they put eggs in?” Jesper chuckled, skeptical of Wylan’s claims. Then again, the way Wylan moved, both between the sheets and out, couldn’t possibly be human. “Not very frightening.”

            “No, that’s an incubator. I’m an incubus,” Wylan replied gently, infinitely patient. Jesper felt his mouth go dry as the curly-haired boy’s eyes began to glow, so brightly that they illuminated the room like lamps with their blue gleam. “I’m what your people would call…” he hesitated, looking down, and it was the first time that Jesper had seen him at a loss for words. “A…a demon.”

            “A demon?” Jesper demanded, not sure whether he was more shocked or curious. Perhaps a mix of both. “But you’re not evil!”

            “You’re right, but I do engage in scandalous, sinful activities to sustain myself,” Wylan pointed out. “That’s enough for the church to consider me to be a demon.”

            “Wait, you use sex to ‘sustain yourself’? Does that mean that sex feeds you?”

            “In a way, yes. It’s not the sex itself, it’s the pleasure. Incubi feed on pleasure, and the quickest way to make people feel enough pleasure to feed on is sex.”

            “Cool.”

            Wylan paused, his brows knitting.

            “So…you’re not going to try and kill me?” he squeaked, his still-glowing eyes wide and vulnerable.

            “Why would I do that when you’re the best lay I’ve ever had?” Jesper prompted, and for the first time it was Wylan who blushed, a red flush reaching as low as his chest.

            “The last person who I told did that,” he admitted sadly. “I thought I could trust him but…” he trailed off, shaking his head. Jesper couldn’t really tell in the shadows around his face, but he swore he saw the incubus’ lower lip tremble.

            “Your secret is safe with me,” Jesper vowed, yawning a bit and pressing a soft kiss to Wylan’s lips. “We should sleep.”

            “Yes, that would be nice.”

 

\----Ӝ----

 

            “Who’s this?” Kaz demanded as Wylan wandered down just before breakfast, bleary eyed. Jesper’s face flushed hot when he saw the dark hickeys standing out all over the incubus’ milky white neck, but Wylan seemed almost proud of them. “What did I tell you about bringing people back to the Slat? What about the thief?

            Before Jesper could say anything else, Wylan was interrupting, “Oh, don’t think that Jesper here wasn't doing his job. He did find the thief: me.”

            The only reason Wylan wasn’t killed on sight was because he was putting out his incubus-y “come fuck me” vibes and everyone in the room seemed too hot and bothered to really think straight. “I was really just out for the pots. I gave them to the beggars to keep their change.”

            “So you fuck your victims instead of killing them?” Kaz snapped, furious.

            “And you can be next big boy, if you’d like,” Wylan drawled, and Kaz went as red as a tomato as everyone in the room broke out into uproarious laughter.

            “I like this one,” Nina chuckled, and Inej nodded in agreement.

            “I can stay, if you want. I’m quite the temptress,” Wylan pointed out, leaning over the table. His back was bent in an inviting arch, and about everyone behind him looked about ready to tap that.

            Kaz spluttered out an agreement, telling Wylan to meet him at noon to go over initiation, and Jesper knew that Wylan wouldn’t have had it otherwise.

            “Why don’t we go back to your room and celebrate?” Wylan whispered into Jesper’s ear once breakfast was over.

            Jesper had never been more on board in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> So here's my little beacon of sin. I just really wanted to write a fic with an incubus in it.


End file.
